...And that's the way it was

So, here we are again, back at square one. Only 24 measly at-bats into my professional outfielding career I was brought back down to earth by the harsh reality of baseball. After I hit my homerun, I went 0 for 12 in the games following. My final game; a marathon 15 inning heartbreaker against the Tucson Toros, I went 0 for 6 with 4 strikeouts. For those of you who don't know, we in the baseball world call that the "Golden Sombrero". Three strikeouts is called the hat trick, but only those privileged enough to have four can don the Golden Sombrero. I was privileged enough to sport it in my final game. We had a day off after the final game against Tucson in which I relaxed and did some things around the house. I arrived about an hour and a half early Tuesday afternoon to the clubhouse and start getting ready to head to the cages. Low and behold, Tempe (our manager) walks in with a new player. My first thought was "Maybe he's a pitcher," to which I then saw him carrying bats and a left handed outfielder's glove. I knew then that something was up and started worrying. I knew that somebody had to either be put on the inactive list or get released and I knew that I hadn't been swinging the bat well. I put two and two together and went outside to try to calm my nerves. I called my wife, who was on her way down to the field, to let her know that I might not be playing because a new player had arrived. I went back into the clubhouse and G2 (Tempe's son and also the hitting coach) told me that Tempe wanted to see me in his office.

I've gone through this too many times to know what was happening. Obviously the target was on my back and Tempe had set his crosshair on me. As soon as I walked in Tempe told me "I'm putting you on the inactive list." Understanding the given conditions I don't blame him for doing so, however, I don't think I was given a fair shot. That being said, I also didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I wasn't performing like I knew I could and like Tempe knew I could, so he did something about it. Independent ball is all performance based, which means if you don't perform then you're next in line to pack your bags and go home. It's never something a manager wants to do or likes to do, but it must be done. I was told that I was over-challenged pitching wise and that I was a one dimensional hitter, which means I can only hit one pitch. I knew my swing had been off and tried to correct it myself in the cages but that got me nowhere. I made plans to see my hitting coach for a lesson on Wednesday, but it was too late. My spot was already given to somebody else. I went to my hitting coach anyways and corrected my swing in hopes of being able to rejoin the team. In the mean time, while I was busy correcting my swing, Long Beach signed an alum from last year in Steve Moss. To make room for Steve, Tempe needed to make another roster move. Unfortunately, Casey Garrison was next on the list. Only a day after I left the team the same thing happened to him. I tried to call him but only got his voicemail, so I left a message asking him to call me back. It's sad to see a good friend and teammate leave the clubhouse for good; especially when you know they're not coming back.

If I'm being honest here, I'm really starting to get tired of baseball. I'm not tired of playing but just tired of everything else, mainly the business aspect of the game. Baseball is a fun game in itself, but professional baseball is a business first and a game second. Every year the managerial team and front office staff invite both old and new faces to spring training to select the cream of the crop to fill their rosters in hopes of bringing a championship to their local city. That's their job. They're not supposed to worry about the feelings of a ball player after he's been cut from the team because they're looking at the bigger picture; putting a winning team out on the field. It's sad to hear that but it couldn't be more true. I've made good friends with a lot of people on many different teams and it doesn't change. Either I was the one to get released or one of my friends was the newest victim of the business. It happens all the time in the Independent Leagues. You make really good friends with someone and the next day you're shipped off to another team or sent home packing. It's the most cutthroat and ruthless business I know.

The thing I hate most about baseball is the unknown. Anything can happen at any given moment. Someone can get injured, promoted, demoted, or released at the drop of a hat. In my short time in the game, I've learned that the front office really doesn't care about the feelings of a player. A lot of lifelong friendships are made playing pro ball, however, the feelings of a baseball player are never taken into consideration when making a business proposal. As players, we're oblivious to what goes on in the front office. Our only concern is to win ball games. It's sad to see the business side of baseball and I was none the wiser to it until I became a victim and was released from the Astros. I had no idea what was coming and it was such a shock to me and just took me by surprise. Only then did the harsh realities of professional baseball really sink in. I was on my way home while everybody else got the opportunity to continue playing, which was very frustrating and hard to handle. I feel bad for any player that gets released because I've been there before and it's not fun. I would be curious to see how the front office staff would feel if they traded places with the players and had to go through what they go through.

I'm reminded of a quote from the movie Bull Durham, "This is a very simple game. You throw the ball. You catch the ball. You hit the ball." It really is that simple, but yet like the Transformers, there's more than meets the eye. There are so many minute details and little nuances that the average fan may not be able to grasp, such as what to do in certain situations and what pitches to throw in a certain count with or without runners on base, etc. Baseball is a game of inches. An inch here or an inch there can make all the difference in the world. For example, say I hit a fly ball on the handle of the bat. If I hit that ball an inch or two higher on the sweet spot of the bat, it's a home run. The same thing goes with making a diving catch, stealing a base, or throwing a fastball an inch off the dish. Every inch counts.

The dream of any little kid playing baseball is to be in the Major Leagues. I, along with millions of other kids, had the same dream. I'm fortunate enough to have been able to experience the thrill of being drafted by a professional team. Not many people can say that. Every year 1500 baseball players out of the tens of thousands all across the United States playing in college and high school are drafted. To be drafted is an accomplishment in itself because it means that someone thinks you have the talent and ability to play baseball at the professional level. However, only a small percentage of the players in the minor leagues will actually get the opportunity to play at the big league level and live the life of luxury. To many, the dream is always alive and within reach; not wanting to give up hope because maybe it could happen next year. To others, the day to day grind of life in the minors takes its toll and forces them out of the game and into the real world where a 9-5 job awaits them. I feel honored and privileged to have had the opportunity to play professional baseball as both a pitcher and hitter. Not many people can say they've done that. It's been the culmination of 18 years of hard work and dedication to the sport which has given so much to me and given me opportunities that I never thought possible. However, as much as baseball has given to me it's also been the bearer of bad news and has crushed my dreams more than a few times. I honestly don't know how much more heartbreak I can take. It starts to take its toll emotionally and I'm not sure how much more torture I can endure. I don't know what direction I'll go when the season is over but I know that a decision will have to be made whether or not I'll continue to pursue the dream. I know whatever decision is made will be the right one. It's hard to give up on your childhood dreams of playing in the big leagues, but as cliche as it might be, when one door closes another one opens.

Living the dream!

Well, alas I can say I'm living the dream once again. I received a text message last Thursday night from my friend on the Long Beach Armada, Sean Buller, asking me where I was, to which I replied "At home. Why?" He texted back saying one of the outfielders, J.J. Sherrill, just went down with a hamstring injury and that he would talk to the coach and let me know if they wanted to sign me. To my suprise I received a phone call from Sean about an hour or so later. He asked me, "What are you doing tomorrow? Do you think you'd have time to come down and sign a contract?" As soon as I heard him say that my face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. Of course I would have time! I was partly shocked and relieved, but mostly excited. I was shocked because I was starting to think that me signing with a team wouldn't actually happen. To my suprise though it did. All the contacts I had made and people I tried to get hooked up with hadn't come through but this time it actually happened. I was even happier to know that I was joining the team I had gone to spring training with and actually knew everybody on the team. It seemed like everybody on the team was really happy to have me back, so to speak. They'd been telling me about how they missed my bat in the lineup. It was good to hear the positive feedback from everybody and to know that they all really cared about me.

I sat out the first day I came in just to get myself adjusted and settled in and then I was in the lineup the next night against the Tucson Toros. I made my debut in right field Friday night and was hitting 6th in the lineup. In my first professional at-bat I sliced a ball between the first and second basemen for a base hit. I couldn't believe it. My first hit as a professional in my first at-bat. I had visions of hitting a home run, like any other player would, but hey, a single is just as good in my book. It was kind of reminiscent of my college days. I got a base hit in my one and only collegiate at-bat. Here I was standing on first base after my first hit. I felt a sense of relief as well as a sense of confidence; to know that I can actually make this transition from pitcher to outfielder.

A little off the topic, but I just read an article about a guy I know who pitched for the Rockies named Scott Beerer. He ended his pitching career in 2006 and was out of baseball as far as I knew. I was surfing around Minor League Baseball's website, milb.com, and saw an article featuring Scott Beerer with a picture of him pitching and hitting. Apparently he's made the transition and is hitting the crap out of the ball. He was sent to Short-Season A ball with the Tri-City Dust Devils (Rockies minor league affiliate) and hit .558 in 43 at-bats. It made me realize that this really is possible. He's 27 years old albeit, but he's doing what I'm doing. He was a two way player in college and chose pitching because he thought that's where he'd have the most success. It just goes to show that it can be done and it's an inspirational story as well.

So after my first hit I was really excited but settled in as the game went on. I wasn't as nervous as I thought I was going to be during my first at-bat, but the nerves were definitely there. I almost hit a home run in my second at-bat, but fell just short and lined out to the center fielder on the warning track. I finished the night 1 for 4 with a single and 2 runs scored. Not bad for a debut I don't think. Last night (July 11th) I went 0 for 4 with 2 Ks, a groundout and a fly out. I was a little frustrated but figured out what I was doing wrong and corrected it today. I felt pretty good going into the game today knowing what I had to do at the plate, which was to just relax. Tempe (our manager Gary Templeton) told me last night as he was leaving the clubhouse, "Good hitters are slow and bad hitters are fast." He meant that good hitters slow everything down and see the ball and react. In 2 of my at-bats last night I felt like I was pressing and really anxious, which showed. Everything in my swing was rushed and just didn't feel right, so I took that attitude into the game today and tried to relax at the plate and see the pitch. My first AB went alright. I fouled off two pitches that were right there and just missed them but ended up striking out on a 2-2 fastball inside. My next AB I was a little more aggresive and swung at the first pitch but missed. The second pitch came in and I sure as hell didn't plan on missing it. I hit a line drive into left field for a single and was back on track and feeling good. My third AB of the night went horribly. I took the first two pitches for strikes and swung at an 0-2 slider inside for strike three. I was visibly upset and frustrated on the inside. I just have to realize that it's only going to be a matter of time before I get adjusted to hitting professionally. I'll get my timing down and be able to adjust the more ABs I get, so I'm not worried. I just get frustrated sometimes when I miss pitches I know I should hit, but hey, that's baseball. My last AB of the night came in the bottom of the 8th inning with two outs and us trailing by 3 runs. I worked the count to 2-1 and then it happened. I saw a fastball about chest high and swung at it. By the feel of it I knew I had put a good swing on it and hit it hard. The ball shot off my bat into the evening sky headed for left-center field. I knew I had hit it hard but didn't know if I had hit it hard enough to go out. I thought maybe it would land at the warning track because I hit it too high. To my delightful suprise just before I rounded second base I saw it go over the wall for my first professional home run. I gave a small fist pump as I rounded second base and a shot of adrenaline ran throughout my entire body giving me the chills. I had done it. I'd hit a home run in a professional game. I was so happy and excited inside, yet calm and cool on the outside. I was greeted by my teammates in the dugout with cheers, high fives, and fist pumps. It was such an exciting moment for me and one that I'll never forget. It was the culmination of all my hard work from the past year of making the transition. I knew I had it in me but it feels good to actually see it happen and know that I can hit and can make this transition. We ended up losing the game 4-2, but it won't be a game I'll soon forget.